The Edge Of Insanity
by ScarlettWitchWM
Summary: "My, Angel." she replied. Not knowing why someone as talented and brilliant as him hid in the shadows. But she was selfish. A quality that to most people was a ugly trait and she knew that but it wrapped her in its clutches. She dare not to break free. For if she did, she may lose her Angel, her teacher, her caretaker.
1. Her Angel's Piano

The sound trickled down Christine's spine. The sound of a voice, that calls to her, gently. Some would say she's insane but wasn't sanity built on a blindfolded society. " _Christine.._ " Her name in which only he could make sound as if a was a musical note all on is own. A note that was created for a soul purpose of passing his lips.

"My, Angel." she replied. Not knowing why someone as talent and brilliant as him hid in the shadows. But she was selfish. A quality that to most people was a ugly trait and she knew that but it wrapped her in its clutches. She dare not to break free. For if she did, she may lose her Angel, her teacher, her caretaker.

She smiled, happy to enjoy lessons with her mysterious Angel. Lessons if not for him she would still sound like a inaudible toad. Thoughts circled in her head. It's been three years since her first lesson, to her it felt as if he has been guarding her all her life. " _Christine_ , focus." he order. She tried again with simple vocal warm ups but again she was off key. She could not focus not with the childish questions that still ran threw her mind.

She sat modestly in the piano bench, her assigned seat that her Teacher gave her many years ago. She never understood why. She just blindly obeyed her Teacher's rules for fear he would leave her and she would no longer be his precious prodigy. " _Christine,_ " Her body tensed. She could swear she felt his breath on her. She wanted to turn to look at him to confirm to herself that he was indeed real. She felt glove cover hands slide from her shoulders to her dainty hands.

Her mouth was dry for she was both terrified and nervous a dangerous combination. He raised her hands to the piano's keys ever so gently. Her hand's were engulfed in his. He then kindly guide her fingers across the keys as he played. Her fingers were passengers singing along to a sweet melody that she herself has never heard before. She didn't shudder at his touch it was his voice that held the power. "Focus, focus, my dear."

Focus? How? She couldn't mutter words let alone sing. Her Angel was real this was proof, proof that she was sane. " _Christine_?" he questioned. She wanted to face him nothing more nothing less. Her body wanted to escape but she was caught between a Angel and piano. He slowly moved his hands off of hers. He wondering if forcing a piece of music foreign to her was a mistake or maybe it was his desperate attempt for human contact.

"Do Angels love?" she asked. A question she always thought of asking but never acted upon it until now. "I do not know." he wonder what made her ask such a question. Love was as foreign to him as his music was to Christine. "But your an Angel." Christine said not wanting her Angel of music to retreat into the shadows. " _Christine Daaè_ , I am not an Angel. I am quite below in fact but if you insist that I be an Angel. I wish not to anyone's Angel but your's."

" _My Angel_." with that she smiled the same smiled she had in the beginning of the lesson. She didn't know if he was still in the music room that was once considered the most haunted of the rooms in the Opera house. She was fifteen when she was playing a extremely childish game with her best friend who was a year older and the other ballerinas that filled the halls with laughter. She hid in this very room under the cloth that once hid the once thought to haunted piano.

For hours no one found her. She wondered if they stopped looking, not that she really wanted to be found. She looked at the piano oddly as if it out of place. Sure she was wrapped in the sheet that covered the piano. It was quite a cold room and a odd one at that. Mirrors lined two of the larger walls that were across from each other. Ballerina bars ran across them as if this room was never planned to be a music room.

The Piano was out of place. It was the only instrument in sight and it looked like it had been play recently. Of course that sounded funny to her. All the people she knew were afraid to step inside but not Christine Daaè. She was torn from either pounding on the piano keys like a dimwit or dancing to her heart's content. She sat up from that piano and danced. She was the opposite of graceful but she was happy no Madame Giry to scold her on her form nor a dance routine to follow.

The dust that was on the sheet marked her once white ballerina uniform. Her hair no longer trapped by her ballerina bun. She would be mistaken younger than fifteen dancing as she pulled the large sheet to follow her as if it was white wings shaded by the clouds that she pretend she frockled in.

"A child to pure for this world." The masked muttered only for himself to hear. He maybe he could train her for she had the potential to become something of a prodigy of his. Entertainment for his past time which he had plenty of. He knew Madame Giry would have her hands full trying to craft this child into a danty figurine in a music box.

"La, la, laaa." Christine joked as she made funny of her reflection. Her voice was the farthest thing from perfection. "Dear child if you wish to sing do it properly." he ordered. Christine looked around to see not a soul in sight. "I can't sing well. I never could. Not like my mother" She said coming to the conclusion he was her angel of music her father said he would send her. She looked at the floor ashamed of dust she scattered across the room.

"Well, shall I teach you or do you wish to flock like someone half your age?" She sat on the piano bench wrapping herself back in the sheet. His words were harsh but something she needed to hear. The man oddly found her wrapping herself back up in a protective cocoon entertaining. "You settled?" he asked. "I think so.. Angel" The name she called him made him clutch his chest. She really was too pure if she called him an Angel.

The same warm ups she did were the same she did the three following years afterwards. Trying hard to perfect each note. No longer for her father the violinist or her mother the opera singer. She wanted to impress her Teacher. Their pastimes becoming her favorite time of day. She wasn't the easiest of students but she was beginning to sing as if she was a opera star.

Remembering what it felt like to be so lost. Lost was a good way to describe how she felt. She was but never alone. Her Angel was there. Always he would stay. "Angel?" she question still not knowing if he truly left the room. She wanted to be naive again. He heisantly answered not knowing if he should continue teaching her for a worried thought crossed his mind that he always avoided. "Yes." he said steps away from sinking into the shadows.

"Thank you." She said as she looked out of the corner of her eye. Just one curious glimpse of her Angel reflected off the mirrors. He looked not at all how Christine pictured. He was much better. She looked down as if she was guilty of a horrible crime. She was, she broke a rule.


	2. Fool's Errand

Christine shuffled her feet. She did not tell a soul that she indeed faced her Angel. She was hopelessly curious a trait much like her selfishness was unwanted. "What's wrong, Christine?" Meg asked as she watched her friend silently sulk. Christine? She asked herself. Was she regretting betraying her teacher's trust? "My instructor.." Christine muttered wanting to tell Meg everything. But what if he was listening? Could she face him if she betray even more?

"Did he scold you? Like my mother does? Or did your Angel turn to be the devil?" Meg joked not realizing how true her words were. "No, nothing like that." Christine replied as she remember the touch of his hands and hers cascading across the piano keys. She blush ever so slightly but Meg knew her to well. "Christine Daaè! Are you smitten?" Meg exclaimed. Christine's light tinge turn to a feverish red. "I would not dare!" Meg knew her friend was lying. A lie so well hidden that Christine was even fooling herself.

Christine feared that her Angel was over hearing their private convesterion as they headed to ballet practice once again. He was. He heard every word and saw Christine blush at the mere thought of her a student and him her teacher. He knew that they could never be but who was he to crush a lovesick girl's dream. No, he wouldn't she was still to fragile.

"Miss Daaè, do you wish to dance or to fill the halls with meaningless babbler?" Madame Giry asked as she shoot her daughter a look. She expected Meg her flesh and blood to know better. The class wasn't easy. A punishment for being late. Caroletta of course was late, fashionably late as she liked to call it. "That _Opera Ghost_ was in my dressing room again!" She yelled a the stage manager. Caroletta was different then everyone in sense she didn't live on the grounds, no living with a bunch of talentless commoners was not her cup of tea.

The Opera Ghost was one of her most constant complaint. She said "He stole my dress!" or "He moved my accessories." Of course no one knew if the Opera Ghost actually exist and if he did why would he waste his time tormenting Caroletta? "He's a madman. Wearing that mask and scaring poor defenseless me." " Christine snickered a bit she couldn't help but be entertained.

"Do you think this is funny?!" She yelled in Christine's direction realizing that maybe antagonizing Caroletta was a bad idea. "Aren't you his prodigy?" Caroletta asked as if those words were a bullet in a gun ready to fire. "My teacher is not the Ghost that haunts you." Christine couldn't believe the amount of courage those words took to form. "Of course he is, you gullible girl. He stalks the shadows only to prey on the most innocent of girls." "If that's true then neither of us should deserve his company." Caroletta was both surprised and offended. "What sin have you committed to condem your purity?" Caroletta asked wanting Christine's fellow ballerinas that Miss perfect was in fact no better than a gazelle in a lion's den.

"I…" She thought for a moment. Should she dare say she had feelings for her teacher or that she betrayed him? She couldn't. She couldn't speak. It was if her own body was telling her that giving into Caroletta's taunt was a fool's errand. She returned to her required post. Never again. She told her. The mask man found her comment quite concerning. She washed her innocence away with her words. What sin did she commit? She was pure as far as he knew? Did she have dalances before he became her student? Was her youth ripped a way so young? Many questions lined his mind each one getting progressively worse than the last.

"How dare she?" Was her innocence all just a act just to wrap him around her dainty little finger. "Christine." he spat. Her name now equivalent to curse word. "Who am I to judge? A monster? No, a poisoner of sorts. Pouring acid into my own heart." He was as lost with his emotions as his counterpart was. The ballet session was over but all Christine could think about was her Angel.

She had to find him. She had to tell him what she meant. But she was interrupted by her ballerina coworkers. Babbling questions, wanting to pry her open like a paint bucket. "Is he cute?" her strawberry blonde friend, Margaret asked. "Who cares if he's cute? As long as he's rich it doesn't matter. Is he? Does he ride horses?" Her friend, Hannah asked who possess equally as long and dark hair as Christine. Christine didn't know much about these two except they were born to be each other's best friend and it showed.

They were pretty good judge of character. They befriended Christine all those years ago. They always told Meg and Christine that "A brunette and a blonde, what would one be without the other?" Margaret or as most people called her Maggie was the one with her head in the clouds just like Christine. They both need a more level head friend to grounded them back to Earth or who knows where they would fly off to.

"I don't know if he rides. I don't care if he's rich as for cute." Christine smiled shyly. She didn't get a good look but she knew just what to say next. "He's voice will make you cave at the knees." She couldn't to resist to brag just a bit. "Where do I sign up?" Maggie teased as she nudged Christine with her elbow. "Does he serenade you?" Maggie kept asking questions to try to amuse Hannah who honestly could care less of other people's love life. She wanted to ride. Hannah only four requirements for men so if they didn't meet her standards, she in her own words "Didn't give a flying squirrel."

"I am a sailor victim to a siren's song." Christine replied both girls didn't expect that from little Miss Perfect. She was blushing just thinking about something so intoxicating as his voice. Christine wondered if she was too selfish not wanting to share such a voice with the rest of the world. Her friends and her parted. Christine went back to the Music room and sat in her usual seat hoping he would be there. She thought maybe this was too forward. Too soon. Too much.

" _Christine_." he called his voice slightly shaken. She could feel herself immediately regretting her decision. She turned around only to be face to face with her strickenly tall teacher leaning over her. Face so close, feeding her curiosity. He put his hands by Christine's hips. Being careful not to touch her. Not to scare her off. He wore a white mask over half his face. One eye blue the other green both full of mixed emotions as Christine lips were barely out of reach. To Christine he was like a hungry cat with a quivering jaw sitting in the window watching the birds wondering how did they taste. And she was his bird.

She leaned closer almost grazing her lips on his but he pulled away. He couldn't tarnish such beauty even if she may have sinned, he couldn't burden her. He looked into Christine's chocolate eye's as she sat there with her finger on her lips. Almost she thought. " _Christine._ " he said but this time he threaded his right hand into her hair. Words weren't needed or wanted in this moment. He knew he didn't deserve her affection. He was so close physically but emotionally he was out of her reach. She was denied the very thing she sought to earn.


	3. Her Prince's Charms

"What's wrong?" she asked her Angel. Her eyes glistened with concern. "You were told the Opera Ghost preys on innocent girls yet you detest against the word? Why?" She looked down quite embarrassed to be confronted on the matter. " _I have_." she sounded as the guilt was eating her away. He knelt down in front of her and held his hands in hers a kind gesture that he didn't know he was capable of.

"I didn't mean to.. It just happened." She sounded almost apologetic. "I.. broke your rules..can you forgive me?" She looked at him waiting for him to respond anything to know he heard her. "What rules have been broken?" he asked. He wanted her to reveal everything to spare him the bandage of kindness. "You said not to dribble on physical presences but when you played piano I couldn't resist and from the corner of my eye I saw you. I realize now that it means nothing and I worry to much but I felt as if my heart was torn."

" _Christine_ , I am to blame. I tempted you and you were powerless to resist." Powerless was the only word that could describe how he made her feel. "I also found a suitor." Before he could respond he heard footsteps creep closer. He return to the shadows once again before he was seen. "Christine!" Meg screamed as she dragged Christine by the arm. Christine was still dressed in her ballet practice dress. Meg was already dressed in her normal attire.

.

"Meg, you're gonna leave a bruise." Christine whined as Meg lead her to a man being flocked by many girls. "So be it." Meg joked as she finally let go. Christine rubbed her arm as she walked not paying attention to her surroundings. Tripping on a slight bump on the rug falling right into the man's arms. "Hi, there." The man greeted as Christine tried to collect herself. "I'm so sorry." She looked at him. He had a charming charisma about him.

"I'm Christine Daaè." She smiled not wanting to dwindle in his arms for too long. "Daaè? Your father doesn't happen to be the famous violinist?" He asked a little to engareedly making her a little uncomfortable. "Yes, monsieur." To everyone's surprise he embraced her in his arms sliding his hand down her back. She tired to push away but she only manage to lean back into his grip. "Excuse me!" she yelled irritated by his actions. She added a hard slap to his cheek for extra measure. Gasps echoed the room.

"Did she just slap the Vicounte?" a girl muttered. "I think she did." another girl replied. The Vicounte batted his blue eyes in utter shock. Never in a million years would he everything Christine Daaè had the audacity to slap him. "You hit me." he said releasing her to rub his now red cheek. "And you grabbed my butt." She replied angrily. "It's not my fault your so short." He smirked. A dumb little smirk that Christine thought was a bit cute.

"My stature has nothing to do with were your hands go." She argued. He found his childhood friend absolustly adorble. "Yes, but they have everything to do were my hands wandered."

Christine not knowing how to respond stuck her tongue out at him. The was about most unladylike thing she could do.

"By the way, names Vicounte Raoul de Chany." He stand adding a seductive wink at the end of his name. He looked at her as if that name and title was a automatic pass for groping her infront her coworkers. "Title doesn't mean a thing if you can't live up to it." She scolded. Raoul raised a eyebrow. Did she not recognize his name? The name of her childhood companion. "Christine, do you still have that scarf?" She cocked her head in utter confusion.

This man was unbelievable just unbelievable. "You know the red one?" He continued. Christine stood there speechless. She had no idea what he was talking about. "After all that effort of fetching it from the sea. Our governess had the biggest fit when we return all covered in sea and sand." Christine then remembered being nine and hanging out with a thirteen year old boy who she considered her prince charming.

"Considered our romantic past ruined. You gropped me." She said wrapping her arms around herself to protect herself from her past feelings. "I could always tell your friends here what you told me when I turned fifteen and no longer needed a governess." He teased. She blushed profusely. "I was twelve! Don't hold that against me!"

Raoul as effortless as Prince carries his princess, held Christine bridal style. She tried to hide her shame with her hands. She couldn't face the gawking girls that let him leave the room with her shamelessly in his arms. He stopped and addressed his adoring fangirls. "She told me that I should find her. Whisk her off her feet because that's what Prince's do. And then we'll live happily ever after." Christine was not the only girl blushing most were aweing or shrieking at the pure fairytale stereotype that he was recreating.

He carried Christine to her room which wasn't very far. She couldn't face him. Not after what he did. "Christine, you can't hide behind your hands forever." "Watch me." He gently peeled her hands off her face. "Now, little lotte, you can't have your Prince Charming leave without a kiss, now can you?" "You think your cheeky don't you?" "The cheekiest.." he said leaning towards her. She wasn't going to stop him. She looked into his blue eyes which found at that moment oddly satisfying to look at.

He put one hand her her dark curly hair. She wanted to abandon all rational thought. To kiss Raoul the walking contradiction. Pervert one minute, then Prince Charming the next. She forgot in that moment with whom she fell in love with these past three years all she could think about was being eye to eye with her Prince.

Lips, barely touching when they heard a crash a very alarming crash. A sound that was in fact from her Ange, not that she never he was behind her bedroom mirror. He had smashed his fist in the lantern he held. "Did you hear that?" Christine asked worried that her Angel was angry with her. "Raoul, you have to go." Christine ordered. Before he could answer he found himself on the other side of her locked bedroom door. Not at all how he thought this night would end.

"Christine!" Her Angel ferociously spat. A tone he never heard him use before. She tensed up. She broke a rule. "Angel?" she innocently question as a child that was caught stealing a extra cookie. "Is he the suitor you spoke of?" He step out the mirror he hid in. "No.." she hesitantly replied. "Christine," he gently called as he tilted her chin so his eyes could lock on her's. She looked at his hands. The first time she had noticed them with gloves to cover them. His right hand was bleeding shards of glass still present.

"Your hand!" She said in a panicked tone. She then looked for her eyebrow tweezers, a bowl of water, a towel, and wrapping to care for his wound. " So you did make that noise? Why for? Why injure yourself?" She question as plucked the shards from his hand. He did whine or twitch but she was sure he felt the pain. "Christine, I dare not think of what that fool would do to you if I didn't intervene." Christine looked at him and sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"


	4. Blue Dresses And Red Roses

Christine yawned and stretched her arms up over her head. ' _Yesterday sure was_ ….' She thought taking a moment to think of a word to best fit. ' _Chaotic.'_ She stumbled out of bed lighting the candles so she could see. To her shock she found her Angel's mask on the floor. Maybe he left in here by accident. But how? The last thing she recalled from yesterday was climbing into bed and having her Angel sing her softly to sleep. She then touched her forehead. ' _Did he kiss me?_ ' She question as she fiddled with the mask in her other hand.

She wanted to get dressed but today was the start of the weekend. Which meant rehearsal practice for the Masquerade party. Or maybe she would decide to sleep the day away. That was a nice thought but her Angel would never allow it. " _Angel_.." She said carefully caressing the mask as if it was a priceless artifact. She laid the mask down on the bed. She didn't want to part from it. But it wasn't hers to keep.

She open her wardrobe door. She didn't have as many clothes as the other girls just manly a few dresses to get her by and a couple practice ballerina outfits. Nothing too fancy of course she couldn't really afford it. She shifted threw her few dresses to fine one she didn't recognize. Blue. As blue as the heavenly blue morning glories that wrapped around the gazebo in the middle of the courtyard. Maybe someone put it into her room by mistake.

Temptation was telling her to try it on. It was her size after all. She like the way it felt when she held it in her hands. Would her conscious let her do such a forbidden act? The girl who this was for was probably missing it. Just to try on such an elaborate bordered gown was unthinkable yet it kept crossing her mind.

"Do you not like the dress?" a voice question. She looked around not seeing the man she knew the voice belong to. " _Ange_ l… such a gown.." She felt undeserving of such kindness and it was evident in her voice. "A beauty for a beauty." He stated believing everything that exited his mouth. She took the dress and headed behind her divider. Realizing that her Angel was on the physical plan made her flustered. Could he see her behind that mirror? He was an Angel he wouldn't have such deserves, would he?

The opera ghost stood on the other side of the mirror looking. He found himself cursing that divider. The divider was both a blessing and a curse. If it wasn't there what would stop him from drinking up her inneconence with his eyes, his devilish deceiving eyes. He wanted badly to walk into her room and swoon her until she gave in. 'I shouldn't have these _thoughts._ These terrible _thoughts_ that both my body and soul crave. Condemn them! Condemn them!' He clenched his fist to the interior battle that he was doomed to lose.

Christine stepped out from her divider. She a was sight to take any man's breath away. She gently pick up the mask and stared into the mirror. She seemed silently asking her Angel of Music to appear. The mask. He gazed at the mask in unvented hatred. That mask has caused him a list of many emotions, pity, greif, spite, but above all was hatred. No matter how he felt about that particular mask it was ironically his favorite.

He emerged from the shadows once again for his darling prodigy. She looked at him as if he was a stranger. He was not of course but the black mask he wore threw her off. The new mask covered most of his face but below the top part of his lips he remain bare.

" _Angel_?" she questioned handing him his other mask. Words escaping her mind as looked at him. She did not like this new mask. To her this new mask hid him even more from her. " _I am your Angel of music…"_ He sang all so softly but all so seductively. She felt powerless once again. Powerless just how her Angel felt the night before as Christine cleaned his bloodstained hand as if she was trying to wash his sins away. " _My masks do not make me.."_

" _My Angel of music, they hide you, and diene you."_ She sang back as if she wanted her voice to be carried off to the rest of the world. " _I am your Angel of music, your Angel of music_ ….nothing less nothing more." His last four words felt as if he had just stabbed himself directly in the heart.

Someone knocked on the door ruining their bonding moment. Christine hurriedly grabbed her Angel's hand. Not wanting him to leave her but sometimes if you love something, you have to let it go. "Christine? Is someone in there with you?" Raoul asked worriedly.

He had planned to take Christine out on a date. Nothing too fancy. Something that would make her childhood romane dreams spark into reality like what he did the day before. Courting her was going to be a greater challenge if she already had a suitor. "No, Raoul." She replied selfishly keeping her Angel a secret.

" _Christine_ , I must go." Her angel said as he grabbed the mask from her and slipped back into his hidden passage. Christine refused to believe that her Angel was the widely feared Opera Ghost that lurked in the underground passageways. To takeaway her belief in magic was to steal a piece of the child that she still remained. She reluctantly came to answer the Vicounte who stood patiently with a bouquet of red roses.

"Red?" she questioned when she saw the excellent display. Red. A color of passion, romance, desire not yellow the color of friendship. "Do you not like the roses?" Raoul replied not knowing what else to say to her reaction. "I love them." She said reassuring her pouting Raoul. She giggled at his cute gesture. She put the roses on the dresser in room. Hoping when she came back they'd still be alive so she could put them in a vase. She closed her door and then proceeded to latch onto Raoul's arm.

When the door shut. The Opera Ghost felt as if she shut the door on him. Shutting him out of her life. A thought almost too painful to think about. Yet, it was possible. She was becoming a young woman much to his protest. If she wanted to throw herself at her Vicounte then he be damned. She was too precious to be another floozy on his ongoing list.

He knew someone as terrifying as himself didn't deserve her either. She was a exoctic bird that neither be tamed or spoken to. A bird of melodies that only worthy ears must hear. Himself? A cat doomed to destroy the very beauty he stalked. He lusted after. But for her to court a measly snake? That would fool her with his beauty and curl around her until she was a lifeless shell of what used to be. To dim a light before it shines like the sun.

" _Christine_." he called as he walked into the depths of despair. Which he consider his cage. Monsters belong in a cage. Away from humanity. Away from the sun. Away from beauty for fear he might corrupt it with his vulgar features. Laughter nor joy present in his kingdom of darkness. Any emotion even jealousy was too good for such a creature. Such a madman.


	5. Tattered Monkey

Silence and darkness reigned. The Opera Ghost was falling. Falling hard. Nothing to stop him. No one to care. He took his black mask off. He looked at it with disgusted. He didn't know why he pick this one to wear instead of another mask will a less gruesome pass. To wear it in front of Christine of all people. Was he trying to give her a sudden hit of his past actions that cause guilt to this day.

Assassin he once was. A good one indeed. Never let his victims live. Never had witnesses. He didn't ask questions. He obeyed blindly. Having this mask be the last thing they saw as a noose blocked their airways. He has seen every color a man can turn. Most would call him sick, but he felt as if this was a outlet for his rage. Occasionally enjoying his line of work at times. Never being caught.

He thought of the souls that scarred his conscious. He was a Reaper, a grim one at that. He tried to justify his actions by remembering these men weren't innocent. They were politicians, corrupt scum but they had one thing that this lone Ghost lacked. Family. Wives, sons, daughters all alone without a ounce of justice.

Many times the Opera Ghost contemplated on a suicide. But he was contempt to make Hell wait. He couldn't repent. No, for he had a too many sins for any just God to forgive. Yes, he believed he was doomed from the start to be devil on earth.

His mother never even bestowed a name upon such a deformity. His father refused to meet him. To lay eyes on him even as a newborn. To be the black sheep of his family was a understatement. To forever be marked a monster.

" _A monster_ I was. _A monste_ r I'll be. _A monster_ Christine does not deserve to see."

Words he repeated over and over again. But were always forgotten in her presence.

He stood in front of a mirror looking at his own curse."To corrupt my Angel? Do I not possess any compassion for her?" He smashed the mirror with his fist.

Not caring it was the same hand that Miss Daaé so carefully stitched up. He didn't consider if he broke his hand, how he would fail to play the melodies that wooed such a lovely young woman. Maybe it was for the best. His hand was a mess once again.

Blood stained the bandages. He however could not feel the pain. Pain was something he learned to deal with. Beat, whipped, carved like a pumpkin by his mother, brother, captures, and masters. He stared at the glass that lined his feet blood drops falling.

He knew that he had to clean his bandages or at least sweep the glass away. Maybe finish his work. Not letting past emotions consume him. But was he past the point of no return. Past compassion, past love, past tears, past happiness. All the things he prayed for Christine. Christine one of the only people that depended on him. He cared for her and hoped that she would do the same out of love not curtsy.

Curtsy a little girl gave. At the Circus, the ghost once lived. Traveling. Caged like an animal. He was twenty held against his will and labeled as the 'Living dead' this of course was before his assassin career

Many lined up to see him his deformity. "Daddy, I wanna see." A little girl about four years of age asked. Signs read Children Beware! But even the cautions wouldn't sway her choice. The man sighed and followed his eagered daughter. She ran threw the crowd only to be face by the man in the cage.

"Hi." She greeted. It shocked him. Usually children her age ran away or threw stones at him. She however wanted a reply but his Master's told him not to take to the guests. "Hello." He responded. He wanted to talk just for a moment, seemed a waste of his talents if he could not speak or sing.

"Do you have a name?" She asked and all he did was nodded a no. "Well then, how bout Erik? It's my monkey's name." She said as she showed him a tattered toy monkey she held in her hands. "Erik?" he questioned. The name foreign to his tongue yet felt as if he was meant to have such a name.

She was a small fragile little girl. Brown hair sticky out all over the place, big brown eyes, freckles, and a big smile that she directed at him. "He likes music. And mud. He doesn't like baths just like me." She was so thrilled to tell someone about her monkey. He couldn't have listen more if he tried.

People stared in awe as he just sat there barley responding with head nods to this brave little girl. She didn't think she was brave, not at all. She had her monkey nothing could stop her. "He likes sandwiches but he can never finish. Daddy says that I'm a monkey sometimes because I climb on things. But it's what monkeys do."

"Little Lotte, there you are. I've been worried." Her father said as he knelt down to her eye level. "Daddy, I made a friend." She said pointing to the man in the cage. "Friend?" He questioned. Not with fear just concern. But the man in the cage shook as if he was expecting to be spat on or to be order to be whipped.

"His name is Erik. I named him." She remarked proudly. "Little Lotte, you can't name people,." her father replied. "Why not? He said he didn't have a name." She stated. "But after your monkey?" He replied not sure whether to take her seriously or not.

"Erik is strong and brave and can withstand anything!" She stated wanting it to be known that the man can indeed withstand anything like her tattered monkey. "Wait here." Her father ordered. He did not know what suddenly changed in the girl's father. Was it guilt or his daughter's revolutionary words.

The girl's father returned with a key much to the crowds dismay. Her words moved her father to buy the deformed man's freedom. He unlocked the chains and picked up his daughter. They nor the crowd said anything about them releasing the monster. The Ghost kept questioning how much did this man pay to shut the Circus up. Especially when they were walking away with the main attraction.


	6. For Fools Fall For Angels

"Do I deny Christine her Teacher? Do I feed my lies? I am not a monster? A hideous creature? A Opera Ghost? Or am I to live by that name. Dreaded name." He paused just for a moment. "A powerful kingly name. A name a wee child gave? To be a new man. To leave Christine?"He asked the silence. The cold, sharp silence.

"Christine.." Raoul said as he laid a hand on her should. Christine looked up at him. Eye's wanting to burst like a damn as she sat in front of her father's grave. The tombstone reading 'Gustave Daaé, a man of God. Who blessed many with his talents.' She sat in front of in covering the gift that her Angel so kindly gave her in snow. Raoul wanted to woe her, earn her affection with a nice dinner of some sort, not spend their time at such a gloomy place.

"Father, forgive me." She said wanting his guidance. Many things crossed her mine to tell her father but not in her present company. "For fools fall for Angels." Advice her father once gave to her. The young boastful Christine who accompanied him to her mother's grave. He always laid a single white rose, her mother's favorites. A ritual he did on the eleventh every month. "Why the eleventh?" Christine once asked.

"On the eleventh, your mother gave me her world. And that was you, Little Lotte." She smiled at her father's kind words. Her mother died in childbirth so Christine was all he had left. A little piece of his wife that he would spoil. Spoil with anything her heart desired. Little Christine was just happy to be with her father. Never asking for a thing. But now she was begging for forgiveness. _His_ forgiveness.

"Christine?" Raoul asked not out of concerned but of boredom. Simple manners the Vicounte somehow lacked. To stay as long as she needed was the gentlemanly thing to do. It was her father's grave afterall. Be considerate Raoul.

Christine wondered why when Raoul said her name it was just a name. Her Angel made it sound more than it was. 'Christine. Christine…. _Christine_..' She thought imagining the first two in Raoul and Meg's voices. The third of course in her Angel's voice. Just imagining him saying it sent an unearthly sensation down her spine.

She looked at Raoul and held her arm out to hint that she needed help up. When she stood up the snow cascaded off her dress. The blue of the dress and the white of the snow competing for attention. He thought it just accent her beauty. Both headed for the carriage but before the Vicounte could open the door for Christine, she threw a snowball at him.

"Christine!" he scolded. She was an adult. She should not be throwing snowballs. Especially were they were out of respect for the dead. Christine looked at him as if he had just crushed her inner child. He felt bad and grabbed some snow and threw it at her. This was the beginning of a full out war. It seemed so childish to passerbys but it was keeping Christine's mind off her Angel.

The two went back and forth calling each other's names as the snowballs flew. "You missed!" Christine teased as she stuck her tongue out like she did when she was younger. Her cape was covered in snow as Raoul tired plumbed her with his amo. He was no better shape himself.

"Come here." He ordered. "No. You'll but snow down my back." She slowly backing away as he came closer. "Me? I would never." His words weren't very convincing. He grabbed her arm and smiled a devious grin. She didn't know what he had planned but she hoped it didn't involve snow.

He wrapped his cold hands around her tiny waist. "I think I won." He said mighty proud of catching her. Both her face and his were tinged pink from the cold air. "How, so?" "Well, Little Lotté it's simple really…" A kiss. Quite passionate. A kiss between Christine and the Vicounte.

A kiss that wasn't without an audience.

She could not mutter a single syllable. "What?" Raoul asked as he tangled his fingers in her curly hair. He wanted to kiss her again but she looked stunned maybe even horrified. "Was that your first kiss?" He asked. She nodded yes.

"Christine, how about that it's our first kiss together." He said not seeing the big deal in a first kiss since he had many dalances. "We can't Raoul, there are rules." She said panickingly. "Rules?" "Raoul if _he_ finds out. My lessons are over." "He?" "I can't. I can't." "Come down. It's just a kiss."

"Raoul, it might cost me my future." "I could bribe him." She could tell he was serious. His blue eyes she could swim in and never return back or care to. "He's not that type of man." "Isn't he? He wouldn't let you kiss.. Not a peck.." She tried to think of something to say but again lost in words as he kissed her more heavily then the first.

This felt wrong to Christine. She hasn't even spent more than a day with the Vicounte. A known playboy and already he had her lip locked. She wanted to pull away. To forget her betrayal to her Angel but Raoul was making it so difficult. So increasingly difficult. He brought up old feelings that she wanted to leave in the past.

"Whoever this man is. He isn't worth your time." "But he taught me to sing." "And sing you do. But your a young woman and of crouting age so how crude could he be to clip your wings before you've truly sworn." "Raoul, I have nowhere to fly." "You can fly with me." He said as he kissed her once more.

She felt as if she was falling not for an Angel. For a man. A gorgeous, rich man. Who picked her over all the other girls. The man who literally swept her off her feet. "Little Lotte, I believe our carriage awaits." He said as he walked back to the carriage both soaked, cold, and flustered.

She glanced once or twice at her Vicomte without muttering a word. She felt her face would explode if she dared look at him for too long. Raoul had a calm composure as if they were still friends. But weren't they? No real conversation was held just silly games and slight flirting.

The kisses they shared were as common as a handshake for the Vicomte. So, why was Christine reading so much into it. Feelings are feelings but her heart and mind couldn't agree. Her mind told her that she'd lose her Angel, forever. The guardian her father kindly sent her. Her heart however told her a different story. To fall so hard for the man in front of her that she will never be able to climb out. 'Father I pray for your guidance. For matters of my heart and mind don't coincide.' she prayed as she headed home.


	7. The Phantom's Promise

"What happened?" Meg asked concerned of her friends well being. "Raoul and me.."

Before Christine could finish her sentence Meg replied with "Raoul and you? First name terms with the Vicomte I see." She teased knowing very well that the two were childhood friends.

"So? What did you guys do to get covered in snow? Was it worth it?" Meg asked a million questions to fast for Christine to respond. The Vicomte however was overcome with ballerinas that asked if he was okay and offered to warm him up.

"We had a snowball fight. Nothing like your thinking, Meg." "Really? I mean with the Vicomte's reputation and all…" "I am too stubborn to fall for his charms." "But Christine is he too stubborn to fall for your's?" "I hope so." Christine's words came as a shock to Meg. She thought the two really hit it off.

"Maybe, you just need rest." Meg said as she lead her friend to her room. Left her friend to face the person most betrayed. Christine looked at her dress hoping that he wouldn't notice the obvious, that it was soaked. The color had a possibility of fading in the process of drying.

" _Christine!"_ he called. His gentle, soothing voice was no longer there. Piercing anger was what echoed in his voice. Her face flushed with guilt. "Angel, I can explain." " _Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, Basking in your glory! Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, Sharing in my triumph!"_

" _Angel, I hear you….Speak, I listen. Stay by my side, Guide me…. Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last, Master." "Flattering child, you shall know me. See why in shadow I hide. Look at your face in the mirror. I am there, inside!''_ The Angel appeared in front of Christine who held out her hand wanting to be carried away by her Angel. His voice had already taken her mind now for her to follow with her body.

" _Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant me.. Your glory. Angel of Music, hide no longer. Come to me, strange Angel…" "I am your Angel. Come to me: Angel of Music_." Their strange duet could be heard from the hallways. The Vicomte knocked on her door. "Whose is that voice? Who is that in there?" He questioned as he found the door was locked.

" _I am your Angel of Music… Come to me: Angel of Music."_ The Angel sang as he lead her threw the secret passage way. "Christine!" The Vicomte screamed but still no answer. If he had the strength to break down the door he would of. He couldn't stand the thought of his sweet Christine with another man.

Who would dare enter a lady's chamber room? Especially when locked? Spirally emotions concluding to jealous was all the Vicomte could muster. He went to find someone with a key. "Meg, does your mother have a key to Christine's room?" He said panicky. "You look as if you've seen the Opera Ghost." Meg joked as she searched her bag for a spare key her mother gave her. She didn't understanding why her mother would give her a key to Christine's room.

"What's the matter anyway?" Meg curiously asked knowing it was probably serious for someone of his title to look that scared. "I heard a voice in Christine's room. A man's voice." He replied. Disgusted with the mere thought of Christine with any other man but him. The two walked to Christine's door. Meg unlocked. To both of their surprise, no Christine.

"How can this be? She was here. I swear." The Vicomte stated as Meg looked around for any sign of a struggle. Nothing but an envelope that sat on the bed. It was a wax seal that Meg knew all too well. "The Opera Ghost.." Meg stated as she held the note in her small hands.

"Opera Ghost? He's a myth." He said as he grabbed the envelope from her. He opened it in a quick haste. " _Dear, Friend . I have borrowed Miss Daaé for the night. As punishment for disrespecting my rules, Vicomte must not watch Miss Daaé's performance tomorrow_." signed OG. "How dare he?!" the Vicomte yelled.

"The rules are rules, she shouldn't have broke them. I shouldn't have told her to." Meg said putting all the blame on herself. "Rule? What possible rule could she have broken?" "No, suitors. And I pushed her. And pushed her into your arms." Meg was worried about what the Opera Ghost would do to her.

"I'm the cause of this?" the Vicomte asked. Not understanding why Christine finding a suitor was a Ghost's business. "I have to tell mother." Meg said leaving the Vicomte to his thoughts. "Why do men fine Christine so alluring?" Meg said questioning men's opinion of beautiful. She looked for her mother who was teaching another class.

"Mother!" She yelled immediately getting scolded afterwards. "Mother, you don't understand. The Opera Ghost has Christine." Madame Giry's eyes widened. She knew this would happen eventually but not so soon. Not why Christine hasn't even debuted yet. "The note, Meg. What did in say?" Meg didn't not ask how her mother possibly could have known there was a note.

"The Vicomte can not see Christine tomorrow because she didn't follow his rules." Meg spat out in less the one breath. "Meg, she'll be fine. He won't hurt her. He wouldn't do such a thing. Not to her." "But mother he's the Opera Ghost. We can't trust him." "We can trust him Christine." She said trying to reassure her daughter that everything was alright.

The Vicomte found them and looked as colorless as Meg. "Madame Giry…" "I know Raoul, he has her. She'll be fine." Madame Giry said as she patted him on the back. "Fine? He has Christine. _My Christine._ " "Your Christine?" Meg questioned wondering if Christine did more then roll around in the snow with the Vicomte. Was her innocence just a facade?

The Vicomte looked at Meg and she realized that he didn't know that he unconsciously took ownership of Christine. "Excuse, me for being distraught." The Vicomte sated not to pleased in being corrected by Meg. The Vicomte thought he had Christine wrapped around his finger so why wouldn't he consider her, his Christine.

"She'll returned unharmed. I can promise that." Madame Giry stated. Wanting nothing more than Christine's safety. She was like another daughter to her. "What if she doesn't comeback?" The Vicomte asked still not trusting her word. "Then it was her choice not his. He never breaks his word." "She'll never stay with him." Vicomte stated believing he had already won this affair of the heart.

"Raoul, she had no one. Then he came and for three long years he was her rock. Her hope. Her sanity. If she stays with him trust her choice." Madame Giry explained but still the Vicomte drilled on. "How can she stay with such a man? A man no one has lived to see?"


	8. Do Not Feed A Monster Sins

Her Angel played a piano in his secluded habitat. He was just a man, a very talented didn't know what she should say or do. She was lured here. For what? Questions dottled her as she sat on the edge of a round swan bed. A bed so soft, so beautiful, maybe it was from a fairytale. What if she was in one. Perhaps, sleeping beauty. Never to be wakened from such a luxurious slumber. Christine would be fine with that, indeed.

The only thing that kept her from doing just so was the masked man's gaze. His eyes weren't red, not at all like the rumors that were spread. One green, other blue, both were lonely, utterly lonely. She wanted to fill them with the kindness of her heart but a part of her wanted to leave them. Leave them fester to make them beg for her.

Christine chewed on the inside of her cheek as she thought about those eyes. He however, wanted her to be comfortable, enjoy a moment of peace. He was disappointed in her for disobeying but it wasn't like her not to talk or at least hum a little tune. " _Christine_.."

He muttered as the piano seemed to cease with the end of her name. "If you wish to leave now. You can go but it might cost your precious Vicomte his head."

"Then I shall not dare to leave." Her words surprised the masked man who thought he had heard everything."You smitten with this man?" He thought he knew the answer and it was event in his rising tone. "I…. we…..kissed but nothing more!" Christine explained. "My dear, you have much to learn." "Then teach me." Christine covered her own mother when she realized what she said. Wanting to take back every word.

He wanted to teach her everything. About love, passion, and all the things that followed but she was indeed to perfect for him to corrupt. The mask man smiled slightly as Christine made such a fuss over an accident. "Did you just smile?" She asked. She was beaming with astonishment at such a minor detail. "I did no such thing." He didn't want to emitt to something so unlike him.

"Angel's have to smile eventually **."** Was Christine's reply to his stubborn exterior. "And what if I am in fact the devil in sheep's wool?" He looked at her as if he wanted to her to run. Run so he could have the thrill of capturing her. As if her willing to be there was in itself unbearable.

"Then, I'll be your Angel." His soul felt as if she was pulling him to the living once again. She stood up and he followed. Him and her standing face to face. He wanted so much more than she ever thought she could give. She looked up at him. She wanted him to but her attempts were in vain.

He handed her a few pages of composed art. He wanted her to sing just to break this thick tension that laid between them. "Lyrics?" She questioned. The papers he handed her had no lyrics. He didn't notice being Concentrated on her beauty. Her unchanging elegance. "Lyric?" He was a bit flustered. A emotion that Christine never dreamed he could be.

"Angel, are you feeling well?" She asked concerned about his sudden change in color. He realized she was even more pure than he thought. "I'm fine." He said sitting back down on his paino's bench. She gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure?" She was clearly worried. He couldn't look at her for fear he might break and give in. Lose control over his mind, his senses, his desires.

"I'm fine!" Her hand quickly moved away. "Christine, I didn't mean to shout. I'm just not used to company in my domain." "I understand." She had more to say but she found herself lost in his eyes once more. She placed a hand on the side of his face without the mask. She was begging for him to kiss her. To give in. To shun right and to submerge in wrong.

"You should shutter away, not be a _temptress pulling me in_. Do not feed a monster, sins. There's repercussions." He took her hand off his face. He held it in his larger ones for a mere moment before kissing them with his soft lips. How both of them yearn for more yet were equally afraid.

"I...I…" Christine muttered. She was shaking to the core, a mere kiss on the hand made her lose all senses. If he wanted her, he could devour her like a lion and a gazelle but he choose the more gentlemanly opprocate. She looked at him who still held her hand. " _Christine_..it is best for both our sakes if you return to your room for the night."

"But I don't want to go." "You must, if you stay…" He stood up and pulled Christine flat against his body. "I'll destroy you bit by bit until there's nothing left of you." He whispered in her ear feeding her flame to a roaring fire. She stood in his arms not knowing to stay or runaway.

"I won't harm you." Words that gave her comfort yet a twist to her stomach. Even if he would to harm her would she still stay? To fall for an Angel, to commit a sin. "We can't." She struggled to be free. He didn't want to let her go not ever. He leaned to kiss her but she looked afraid. He let go instantly after seeing her expression. "Please go." He pleaded. "Go! I said!" He yelled at her timid response.

It didn't occur to him that she didn't know how to get back to her room. Darkness reigned in the catacombs. She was not accustomed to the dark as he was. She could hear slight squeaks of rats that scurried the cold ground. She touched the wall and follow where it lead. Christine hoped that she wouldn't get lost.

If she did she may never be found. She would starve and the rats would ravage her corpse. Her thoughts worked her to the point of crying. How could her Angel be so mean? To lure her in a trap in which she could not possible find her way out. To die as alone as he felt? Christine slumped to the ground. She knew there was a lake somewhere but she must of took a wrong turn.

She should of caved. To fed the monster sins. Then she wouldn't be so lost. So undoubtedly scared. She felt as if she's been wandering for hours. " _Christine_?" A voice called. She wanted to call out but she felt weak in her knees. How long has she really been lost in the catacombs? " _Christine?_ " Her sight began to blur. Then she felt someone pick her up. She didn't remember exactly who but she assumed it was her Angel.

She awoke finding herself in her room with Meg asleep in a chair next to the bed. "Meg?" Christine asked shaking her arm. Meg yawned. "You're finally awake!" "What do you mean?" "We had to cancel the party to search for you. You've been missing for three days. You should of heard the Vicomte. He wouldn't let one play go on unless you were found." "Three days?" "Yah, three of my longest days ever. Where were you anyway?" Meg asked. "Lost in the catacombs." Christine didn't want to blame her Angel, after all she's the one that ran.


	9. He Had His Chance

"The Vicomte got you a rose since your bouquet died. I thought it quite sweet." Meg said trying to keep her friend who had a blanket wrapped around her, awake until the Doctor came to check her health. Christine didn't think she needed a Doctor but the Vicomte insisted.

"How did you end up in the catacombs in the first place?" Meg asked. This was bugging her, she wanted to know what happened to her dear friend. "I followed an Angel." Christine's answer was very vague and didn't satisfy Meg's curiosity.

"Christine, you can't possibly expect me to believe something so absurd." "That's what I did. I followed where he lead." "I'm going to get you to tell me. Or was it the Phantom? Did you run from him? So he could chase you for sport?" "I obeyed my heart but it betrayed me that's all." "Let me get this straight, Christine Daaé fell in love and it's not the Vicomte? He's going to be devastated."

Christine fiddled with her nightgown not really knowing how she came about wearing it. "I didn't say I was in love." "Honey, your eyes told me otherwise. Whoever he is, he doesn't deserve need someone as nice as the Vicomte." "Meg?" Christine asked trying to divert the conversation.

"Yes?" "How did I end up in my nightgown?" "You were wearing it when the Vicomte found you tucked in your bed as if the past three days never happened. Why?" "Because I don't remember putting it on.." Then Christine's face flushed a bright pink as she buried her face in her hands. She briefly recalls putting her head through the head hole of the gown and a blurry version of her Angel.

"Christine! Are you saying this man stripped you? And under such circumstances? When I find this this man, I swear I'm gonna hang him. Hell, I might even shoot him." Meg was all about protecting her best friend. The Vicomte opened the door surprised to see Christine awake.

"Meg, why didn't you tell me?" The Vicomte asked. "Didn't you say not to leave her bedside for even a moment as you went to fetch the Doctor?" Meg replied as she headed out the door giving the Vicomte and Christine some privacy.

"What did Meg do to you? Your flustered beyond repair. Am I the cause? Was the rose to much?" He asked sitting on the edge of the bed laying his hand on her knee. "I'm so sorry I made you so worried." She muttered. "Don't be." He said scooting closer to her to place a hand on her cheek.

"May I kiss you?" He asked. He was a gentleman even if he did grope her compared to want the masked man did. "Raoul, can you ever forgive me?" She asked slowly blinking her brown eyes that have made two men lust after. "What for?" He asked.

She pulled the blanket farther around her as if to hid her shame. "I've been.." She couldn't bring herself to say it. She tried to wipe the tears that fell to her cheeks. "Christine, you're safe now." He said as he climbed in bed with her to come her nerves. She couldn't believe her guardian was to do something so scandalous.

Christine thought she was about to break. Her Angel scolded her then let her get lost then had the audacity to strip her bare. She clung on the Vicomte's dress shirt soaking it with tears. "Your fine now. Whatever happened I forgive you." He stated as he kissed the top of her head. "Raoul… he.. Undressed me." She said between her tears.

Her words caught the Vicomte of guard. Who would do such a thing? Was the Opera Ghost the colpart? And the note just a mere taught. A meaningless paper full of empty words. "I will take care of this. I promise." She was thankful the Vicomte was okay as being the shoulder for her to cry on. It was quite out of character for someone like him who was a player and dismissed many damsels but Christine needed him.

The most painful moment to witness was this moment. Not only did the Opera Ghost unintentionally hurt Christine but he also threw her in the arms of the Vicomte. Which she had the potential of becoming another notch on the Vicomte's bedpost. Maybe it was time to leave his precious student. To let her make her own choices good or bad.

He wanted to steal Christine from the Vicomte's arms but he knew very well he was the last person she wanted to see. The very person he swore to protect crumbled at his hands. He felt more powerless then being locked in a cage like a animal. More helpless then being shackled and whipped for being a monster.

"He.. saw me… Raoul." She said working her nerves up once more. "I know." He replied trying to keep his composer as the girl he fancied was in so much distress. "I betrayed him." The Vicomte tilted one eyebrow in confusion. "It was a punishment." She concluded. "Don't make excuses for such behavior." The Vicomte stated concerned.

"If I had not broken his rules… He wouldn't of." "Christine, if he truly cared about you, he wouldn't have done such repulsive thing." "I'm not innocent." she hesitantly admitted. "You betrayed him by courting me, but following your heart is not a crime." "I tempted him. I begged him to do this." "Christine, you didn't ask for this."

"I told him to teach me." "If this man is indeed your voice instructor, then he should ask for nothing more. You wanted to sing and he taught you. That should be the end of the arrangement" "Raoul, it wasn't singing I asked him to teach." Her words were hard blows to his heart. "You did no such thing. Your just tired that's all."

"I know I did. I begged him. I pushed him. And he yelled at me to protect me. " Christine said settling her emotions. She then thought that maybe just maybe him changing her clothes was not an act of lust but of kindness. She was in that gown for three days and in the catacombs which had a rank smell.

She was clean as if he carefully made sure that she was well taken care of. If he wanted to take her out of anger he had his chance but she was tucked away like a porcelain doll. She wanted to apologize for being so one-sided. He won't do such a disgraceful thing unless he lost all hope for his redemption.

"Christine, he will pay for upsetting you so." "Raoul just forget about him." She said as she nuzzled her face in his chest. She liked it when the Vicomte was overprotective of her.


	10. The Arrival Of The Red Death

Three months past, not one word from the Opera Ghost. No mysterious envelopes with a wax skull on the front. No strange accidents. In these lonely three months Christine gave her heart to her Vicomte. He was there for her unlike her teacher who seemed to vanish as if the three years she spent with him never happened. She clutched her chest with her right hand.

She missed him dearly. She wanted him to reappear so they could sing their duets once more. "Christine? Are you alright?" The Vicomte kindly asked. She wasn't the same. Her mind wandered like a child's. "Everything will be alright." He assured as he held the hand that adored the engagement ring. He was proud that such a prize was his but he wished she was more excited about it as he was.

Christine wanted to believe the Vicomte's words but her world fell threw her fingers. First her father, her only companion and now her teacher; all gone. She faced these months with a brave face but it was only a matter of time. The managers heard about her engagement and decide to throw a masquerade ball in celebration.

She was dressed in a gown that was from her dead mother that Madame Giry so kindly altered to Christine's size. Madame Giry also added glittering stars to this pink dress to give in a more night effect. Since each member attending of the party was given a different theme to dress in. Christine's was night, Vicomte a prince, and Meg a pirate. The Vicomte looked dashing in his princely attire but Christine was nervous her costume was not as pretty as the other girls but it sure made a statement.

"Would you like to dance?" The Vicomte asked still holding her hand. "Do I have a option?" "No." He lead her onto the dancefloor. His hands wrapped around her but they soon crept lower and lower. "Raoul, keep your hands on my waist." She ordered. He smiled not at all sorry that he got caught. "You think this is funny?" She knew the answer.

"Hey Christine, mind if I steal the Vicomte for a dance or two?" Meg asked. "Sure but watch his hands they like to wonder." Christine replied giving her husband to be a glare. "Thanks." Meg appreciated Christine's kindness of giving up her dance partner for a few dances. Meg was asked by many of the stagehands to the dance but none of them fit her fancy. She didn't even find the Vicomte all that interesting aside from his looks and wallet.

Christine headed away from the groups of dancers only to be cut of by a man. "May, I have this dance?" He asked. His voice sounded very familiar like a trap to its prey. She held out her hand to be whisked away to the dance floor once again. This man was dressed in the most elaborate costume. He had a large pirate hat with large feather coming out from it. His suit was also red and he had a cape all of his items had a finish of gold. The most interesting item was his mask, it was a skull and the only thing he wore that wasn't red. He could only be described as the red death.

Christine didn't notice the gasping crowd as her and her mysterious man danced the waltz to a melody that wasn't approved by the Vicomte. Christine stared at the man who hand his arms all too carefully wrapped around her as if he was committing a sin just by touching her. She was entranced by his demeanor. Before she knew it their lips were on the verge of touching if it wasn't for her darling Vicomte to come to the rescue; who knows what she would of done.

"Christine, come with me." The Vicomte ordered only for Christine to plant her feet in protest. "I can't." "Why can't you?" he asked. She looked at the masked man hoping just hoping that her instincts were wrong and it wasn't him. " _Christine_ , your Vicomte awaits your answer." The masked man stated. Her eyes widened with panic. She knew it was him.

" _Angel_?" She asked fearing that this was the last time she would call him such a thing. " _My Christine_." He said as he caressed her cheek with his had much to the Vicomte's disgust. "Get your hands off my fiance." The Vicomte ordered but again he was ignored. Christine was scared, scared that if she followed her teacher once more he would leave.

"Your Christine.." She repeated her words in her head. " _Christine._." Her teacher called once more. He missed her more then she would ever care to know. These past three months was him practically ripping his own heart out of his chest. He wanted to give Christine a life without someone who caused tears to her eyes even if it was a misunderstanding.

"Sir, do I have to repeat myself?" The Vicomte warned. The man took his hand off Christine's cheek. "I do hope your Vicomte can do all you ask of him." Those words did not only startled Christine but the Vicomte as well. She only asked the Vicomte to love her before they officialized their engagement but the wording was all too similar.

Was he watching them all these months just lurking in the dark not uttering a word. Watching, waiting to pounce. "You've been here the whole time?" Christine asked. Before her Angel could answer she smacked him making his mask slightly ajar. " _Christine._." He mumbled as he rubbed his left cheek. "Don't you dare. I am not your Christine." She fiercely stated. She was done with him pulling her strings.

The Vicomte stood back not sure how he should handle this situation. He never saw Christine with a temper before. "Christine.. Come down." Her Angel suggested not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to their quarrel. The crowd thought maybe it was a lovers spat between Christine and a old suitor who aimed for her hand that the Vicomte already possessed.

"She's got two men. Wonder want she had to give up." Caroletta jested as she fanned herself by the gossiping ballerinas. Christine's Angel had very heightened hearing do to years of fearing for his life. He shot the diva a cold glance in which Caroletta instinctively screamed "Opera Ghost!" Her words gave way to bustling panic. "Guess that's my que to leave." The ghost stated before he kissed her right hand. A gesture that was done in the unapproval of her engagement to her Vicomte.

As the red death made his escape he past Meg who didn't fear him like her fellow friends of the Opera house. She grew to appreciate him over the years since he indeed taught Christine to sing. She ignored the rumours and only believed the flattery that Christine gave him. He was a genius locked away from society due to his repulsive appearance.

A man of passion and a man of his word. Qualities that the Vicomte and many other men lacked. He was alone and only felt wole in the presence of Christine who unknowingly took advantage of such a trophy. "Phantom." She whispered sympathetically as he passed by. He heard her of course but he didn't want sympathy. He wanted to accompany Christine to her journey of stardom.


End file.
